On Farpoint Station (a SW:TOR fanfic)
by Minus-Sign
Summary: A short fan fiction backstory for a character I created in Star Wars: The Old Republic. I never got a good RPG guild to flesh her out but I liked the backstory and thought others might like to read it. Hope you enjoy.


**Sploodge**

Hanging in the gravity well of a gas giant, a mish mash of cargo containers welded together formed the lower sections of a rickety Excel Enterprises space station, ships slipping in and out of its repair facilities as cargo and passengers sought new worlds, new adventures, and reprieve from old demons. One thin ship cut a track through the busy traffic lanes, barely missing a large freighter that was extending its docking arms to the station like a child reaching for a lost parent. The shuttle turned in a single motion as it entered the landing bay, rolling slightly as landing gear creaked and engines whined down. Its pilot was in an obvious hurry. Idle ships cost credits in upkeep. Moving ships made money.

A puff of sticky smoke billowed from the gangplank and Jedi Master iX, itinerant Healer, philosopher, historian, and pauper exited the dank and cramped shuttle bay. He stretched his arms in slow windmilling circles, the massive deep brown limbs cutting wide arcs around him that somehow managed to miss the forming crowd of departees. He bent his hammerhead and shoulders low until a loud crack issued and forced a smooth, enraptured sigh from both his mouths. Another departee, a small pink creature with gold flecked eyes clapped at the gestures and the bellowing sigh, perhaps expecting the beginning of a street performance. Ithorians were known for their fantastic voices, but he was not to the point where he must sing for his supper.

 _Not yet_ , he thought.

He waved an apology and stepped out of the landing bay and into a wide ally of traffic and trade; speeders hurdling over crates and cans, storage containers and contraband vying with pedestrians for room to maneuver in the cramped and closed confines of the space station alleyways. Gravity was a subjective thing in space, and above iX he could see another alley-upside down to his point of reference-equally crowded and busy.

FarpOint StatiOn, he rolled the name in Ithorese, and felt the small stash of credit chips in his robes. Such places were easy to land upon, and too often hard to leave from. And Farpoint seemed Aptly named.

He had spent the last two decades in deep study and meditation on the planets Zhadalane and Eriadu. He had hoped seeing the two opposing governments in action first hand would give him a better sense of how to deal with the political strife building in the Core worlds. Sadly, there seemed little desire for compromise between the planets and he had left with many notes on history, but precious insight into the political mind.

Of cOurse, he chided himself, Master SyO wOUld say 'A pOlitical mind is an OxymOrOn' in itself and chuckled at the jest.

HUmOr he mused, The last recOurse Of the weary mind and the empty mOUths. he rubbed his upwardly bent chin, taking in the smells of street vendors and small restaurants across the way. Well, I can take care Of One Of thOse while I'm here, at least.

Normally, the Itharian would follow his considerable snout and trust it to find something both edible for his species and palatable to a sentient's tongues. This time, among the confusing smells of burning plastic, spilled starship fuel and...other things that were best sent to a waste recycler Ew he trusted the crowds. The locals would know which shops to avoid and which to get a decent meal, and he quickly found himself in a short line before a simple Nerf-burger stand. He would be surprised to find any actual nerf in the burger, but no one seemed to be taking ill from their purchases, and the smell coming from the cart was appetising. After making his selection, and with a wistful sigh as he slid the credit chit into the payment slot and saw the numbers trickle away, he stepped away from the stand with a small paper bag of a meal.

But he did not search for a secluded place to eat. Instead his eyes turned and focused on one of the stalls he had previously overlooked. There was a small cart and a scraggly bunch of people waiting in a hurried line, many looking over their shoulders in suspicion as they waited. It was a sploodge stand, one of the many forms of artificial foods the poor and malnourished depended on for survival.

And at the stand stood a young blue girl. Her clothes where a mismatch of patches sewn together, a spacer's tunic and traders pants; old boots at least one size too big for her. There was grease on her face and the backs of her hands, but she stood at the front of the line.

"Go'way Weird One," the stall owner grumbled at the girl.

"She will have satisfaction," the girl replied, shoving a nearly full bowl of food at the large vat of sploodge. "She paid for a full portion and was provided only three quarters. See the rim?" and she pointed at the thin line that marked her "full" point. "Feel the weight!" And she hefted the bowl in one hand.

"Price is price," The smaller alien growled, gesturing with his ladle for her to move, "Probably stole those credits you paid me with you duct rat-get out of here before you get in real trouble."

"Hollow Stones!" she retorted, and both the shopkeeper and iX drew back at the retort."She has spent two days in the generator room cleaning the machines to keep your stall lit! Her payment was grafted from honored work!"

"A likely-" the shopkeep began and started to close the lid of his vat of food. Murmurs of protest began to float down the line behind her but the girl snarled, leaning forward and grabbing the lid of the sploodge vat.

"You will provide her the fair share," she said firmly. iX almost dropped his lunch in the middle of the street.

The stallkeeper seemed momentarily confused, but nodded sleepily and said "Alright. If it gets you out of here I will provide you your fair share," and without thinking opened the lid and ladled a quarter portion of sploodge into her bowl.

The blue girl stepped back, momentarily as confused as the shopkeep. Then with a smile and a nod, as if everything was as it should be, she covered the bowl and stepped out of line.

Enchanted, the Ithorian followed her at a discreet distance. A Force Sensitive? Here? And strong enough to manage-well, not actual "Persuasion" but it was a close approximation. More of a push than a true command.

Raw talent to be sure but...he followed the blue girl down a thin alley, squeezing between empty crushed crates and jumping over sleeping bodies to keep up as the thin girl swiftly crept through the bodies and trash.

She stopped at a small ventilation duct, cracked the cover off and set the grill on a pair of-hopefully spent-power bricks, making herself a crude seat over the wet ground. Hunkered down almost bent double, she slid a spoon from one of the tunics' many pockets and began to eat. And just as quickly, red eyes snapped up, noticing the Jedi for the first time. They narrowed slowly, suspicious and she scooted herself closer to the vent.

Peace!, The Jedi said, holding a hand up when it looked like the blue girl was going to dive into the exposed vent. If she did, thin as she was he would be surprised she would squeeze through, he would either have to help pull her back out or never see her again.

I mean yOU nO harm he said, keeping his tone soothing and his arms open, a gesture of greeting and peace to several Outer Rim peoples. He had not seen a humanoid with red eyes and blue skin before. He was unsure the protocols and made his best guess.

The blue girl shook her head, confused. iX considered for a moment, then nodded, reaching into his robes. He drew out a small metal disc, attaching it to one shoulder, and spoke the question DO yOU knOw what yOU did back there?. A metallic translation came from the machine in Galactic Basic and the girl shrugged.

The blue girl considered the question, the questioner and the translator. "She does nothing.," her eyes were thin red slits, seeming to glow in the dim alley. She spooned a mouthful of sploodge into her mouth, said "The melody is low, and the dancers walk away. Best you follow, King." and ducked her head between her shoulders, slumping over the bowl with a defensive air. Her eyes did not leave his though.

YOU did mOre than nOthing, the Jedi replied, his tone cautious but accusing.

The machine may not have translated the tone but the blue girl was already looking at him with glowing-yes, he was sure now; her eyes were glowing-red eyes as she replied "She did not sell promises to take them back!"

YOU did nOt sell anything, the Jedi replied, his own confusion showing. YOU bOUght.

"Her," she bit on the word, "fair", and she picked up her spoon, "share." And slapped it with authority into the small dented bowl. She considered the alien again, trying to guess his intent. Then said "Git yer own sploodge," she hunkered proprietarily over the bowl again, spooning a bite into her mouth and watching him warily.

The Ithorian sighed knowingly and considered. A "duct rat" as the shopkeeper had called her, then, was probably an orphan since she had not returned home with her meal. Or maybe she had, he considered, looking at the open vent. She was too old to begin training, but even remedial initiation would help her and keep her out of some of her troubles. Left to her own devices here, the girl might be the next crime boss of Farpoint when she learned the more seductive sides of the Force. Or she might become someone's plaything, a curio to be used and discarded. Either would be a waste.

Regardless of her age, it was the Jedi way to render aid. And at the least this blue girl could use some manners.

I have, and he hefted the nerf-burger bag for her to see, my own meal, thank you.

The girl looked at the dancing nerf on his bag, a knowing glance as she looked down at the considerably cheaper sploodge. "If you are the King of a castle, why so address This serf?"

He considered the question as a riddle. A king...was rich. And his nerf-burger would represent more money than this Blue Child might see in a week. She, a serf, a poor and low person, was suspicious of his intentions. Looking at her clothes, her face, and feeling her fear, she had rights to be wary. But she wasn't rude with her question this time. Idle curiosity played along her lips with a slow smirk.

This was not a normal initiation. But she was strong in the force. And-he replayed the scene at the stall-her sense of justice was still as firm as any Jedi. She could have Persuaded the stallkeeper to forfeit a week's worth of sploodge. Instead she had...she had demanded what she had paid for. No more, nor less. "Her fair share."

WOUld yOU like sOme of my bUrger?" he asked in offer.

The immediate response was an obvious "yes" but unspoken. First, she perked at the idea, her tongue darting out to wet her lips at the prospect and she leaned forward. Then, caution crept back into her posture. Instead of answering, she slumped back down into her hunch and made a show of taking up her spoon and sploodge, eating a mouthful to prove she could feed herself thank-you-very-much.

"Why?" She rolled the word and the spoon around her mouth, sucking the utensil clean and dropping it back into her bowl.

TO share a meal with a new friend, iX replied, his other mouth smiling. And tO get tO knOw yOU better, he continued, immediately regretting the words when her face turned to a dark flush at the translation.

"The chambermaid lifts her dress?" her words were scandalized and he realised others had probably offered to "get to know her" before this meeting. She half rose, her makeshift chair kicked to pieces as she turned her hunch into a crouch. "This One will bite and tear!-"

NO; nO. he held his hands out again, the gesture of peace. NO! NOt that. Never that and FOrgive...This One if his wOrds sUggested sO. She was still ready to move, to the vent or to the attack, and he continued I am a seeker Of knOwledge and cUltUres. YOUr speech is UnusUal tO me. I wOUld learn Of it. And in the dOing, mOre of yOU.

"Then," she relaxed a little "Why?" She asked again. "Why does this King care?"

Well, he considered That, and he moved with careful steps to a larger crate, testing its weight before he sat upon it, slightly removed from her but easily within his long arms' reach, is a long story in itself.

"She likes stories," the blue girl mumbled. Then, sharply "Speakit."

He considered for a minute, being commanded by this little thing. Alright, and he reached into the bag, breaking the burger in half. He did not offer the other half to her this time; if she wanted it she would need to ask-politely-for politeness was its own reward. But first, names. I, and his other hand went to his chest, eating with one mouth as he spoke with the other, am iX.

She waited for a moment, obviously expecting more, and made no move toward the burger. She swallowed another spoonful of sploodge, and replied "She is The wind blowing strong down the slope of a mountain. She is pleased to be called O'ro'shi."

He considered her words, their descriptive nature. Imagery was obviously very important to her people. Some things would have meaning that required deciphering. "Weird One" the stall keeper had called her. Perhaps much of her intent was not easily translated-and how could she have survived without learning the local dialect?

But for now. O'rO'shi? he asked, and she nodded. I am pleased tO meet yOU as well. The blue girl nodded and he continued. NOw fOr my stOry, yOU must knOw the Origin of my kind. The people that I belong tO.

"Your race?" she asked and he shook his head.

NO. My peOple. and he stressed the difference. Then asked her in turn, Have yOU ever heard Of the Jedi?

 **Respite**

"Price is eh," the human scratched his chin, "not negotiable. Space might be smaller than you're used to but space is always at a premium around here, don'cha'know?"

Then let Us hOpe the facilities are as you prOpOrted, iX countered as he, the human and his new friend O'ro'shi turned down a thin alley-almost too narrow for the wide ithorian to walk through without turning sideways. As they stepped in, iX felt a small bout of claustrophobia, the walls creeping in and a ceiling only inches from his hammer head feeling like it was coming down on him. He resisted the urge to crouch.

"Is a good place," the blue girl said stolidly, "You see."

Both the adults turned to her. O'ro'shi did not often speak and iX half smiled at her confidence. The human scowled, no doubt wondering how the blue duct rat might know that the small bakery he was leading them toward was "a good place". iX had an idea. Farpoint was, of course, rigorously climate controlled. Few would go cold in its confines-hunger was another matter. But peace and quiet were commodities too, and he would not have considered O'ro'shi to be above a little vent skulking to get into an abandoned building for a night's uninterrupted sleep.

"Right then," the human, a balding male with grey eyes and greyer hair made a show of not pushing the issue with O'ro'shi's foreknowledge of the bakery as he slid a keycard through a lockslot and the-iX noted-thin door jerked twice furiously before sliding open on ungreased bearings.

"I've , eh," the human picked his ear with a forefinger, "been meaning to fix that."

ShOUld I rent this space, I will see that yOU do, iX said, a hint of promise in the Jedi's voice.

The landlord stepped through the door and began his pitch. Good running water, three rooms-and a half bath that he seemed particularly proud of-were chief among his selling points. iX took a cautious eye to the large window-taped over and covered to block prying eyes. There was a large crack from the right side spidering its way to the uppermost corner of the other. There were also metal bars on the outside. Dust had settled on the sill and the tables of the first room, long abandoned and uncleaned for months. With no air exchange running, the store had become a backwash for all the errant particles that would have been otherwise filtered out by the station's environmental control. iX did not think a place would normally sit idle for a long time. Space, as the landlord had said, was at a premium.

So what was wrong with this store?

The baker who had previously rented this shop had left in a hurry. There were still a few bags of various grains in a large pile in one of the back rooms, the tables he had used to display his work had not been removed. Perhaps they would be part of the sales pitch.

iX turned on each room's light as they entered, and flipped them back on when the landlord tried to turn them off as they left. His hunch proved accurate as they entered the third room and all three lighting systems were activated at once. The entire shop's energy grid began to fluctuate wildly. O'ro'shi's red eyes widened as the strained circuits and lights wavered weakly before iX put the landlord out of his misery and cut one of the circuits.

They are all on the same circuit? iX asked, moving to inspect some of the cupboards in another corner. He did not look at the human. And the pOwer OUtlets tOO?

"Well, yeah," the human admitted, nonchalantly. "Eh, Central Power's supposed to take care of that-"

But I would rent from you. iX countered. I would require significant power for my work. Kolto required robust storage units, as well as climate control and better lighting than the shop currently provided. Cold storage was cheap to rent but expensive to maintain without stable electricity.

Defensively, the landlord put a hand on his hip. "And I haven't even agreed to rent this place to you yet. What are you planning to do with this space?" Before iX could answer he snapped. "I'm supposed to ask". And he looked at O'ro'shi suspiciously.

The blue girl's face became suddenly darker, her red eyes tightening to slits.

And rightly sO, iX replied, putting himself bodily between the two. I intend tO Open a clinic.

The landlord took a moment to review what he had just been told."Really?" he asked when iX said no more. "Here?" the ithorian nodded. "I mean, that's great but-most of those are all up spin from the landing bays and the docks, don'cha'know?"

Where the power grid is more stable? iX considered. And the clientele more wealthy.

Instead he said A dOckhands injuries are as immediate as any Others' and the landlord nodded when he considered this. WhO wOUld we speak tO if I were tO rent this space, iX asked, TO fix the dOOr and tO address the grid?

""The door will be fixed tomorrow," the landlord stated firmly. He sounded less defensive and more apologetic when he said "I really didn't know about it-but it sounds like a gimbal and grease. The machinery worked. As for the power…" he trailed off, scratching his ear. "Well, I'd have to make a few calls."

Make them, iX said. I intend tO Open within the week.

The landlord's eyes widened with the promise of payment. Then narrowed at the cost he was about to incur. "It'll be expensive to get Central down here that fast."

I see nO need to adjusting the rent, iX said and if anything the landlord's eyes widened even more. But iX continued and the man glowered when he said YOU will take two thirds of the cost out of my rent; a garnishment until the repairs are paid off.

The landlord seemed to waffle. He'd obviously wanted more than a third of the rent. But iX had him "by the ear" as Master Satele would say. The space was only an expense to him right now, and a third of a profit was better than continuing to pay tax on a place that was generating nothing. iX further mollified him more with the reminder. YOU will get paid, and they will get paid. As you said: mOst clinics are well away frOm this area. The, iX looked at the very narrow door, lOcation will gUarantee steady business for me.

The landlord made a show of considering this before he nodded, agreed with a curt "Alright," and sealed the deal with a handshake. An afterthought, he handed the keycard to iX and rushed out the door, holo recorder in hand.

"So much wealth you possess," was a whisper from a corner. iX turned to the blue girl-she had made a point of avoiding the two of them during the exchange. She'd huddled herself into a corner, been so quiet and so still, melting into the room as if to disappear. For a moment, he had almost forgotten why he was opening a clinic.

This, and he gestured to the rooms around them, indicating the rent he had just agreed to pay, is a pittance next tO what we will need.

"To reach your people?" she asked. "Is it truly that far?"

The ithorian nodded Tickets frOm the OUter rim tO TythOn are prOhibitively expensive. We will take OUr respite here fOr a while, and I will teach yOU mOre Of the peOple I want yOU tO meet.

"You will truly take This One with you?" and she still seemed at once confused, wondered, humbled and cautious with the question.

If yOU still wish tO gO, yes.

iX watched her, with oozing purpose, rise from her crouch and extricate herself from the shadowy corner. She had an unusual grace, both quick and fluid but not seeming to hurry. Like water pouring through the cracks of rock: it moved at its own speed, found its own way, and so did she. She walked around the main room, inspecting the tables again, frowning at the lights that-on her previous visits he assumed-she would not have known were faulty. "You will tell me more of the trees?" she asked. "Of the sky and the seasons? And snow?"

Yes," he nodded, adding a promise. And yOU will see them fOr yourself sOOner than yOU think. BUt first, and he clapped his hands together, drywashing them as he surveyed the new clinic, there will be mUch wOrk, and he looked about the disused shop with growing purpose. And a prOper assistant tO a Jedi healer mUst knOw many things.

"Her Words are Stone to Stand Upon," she said and iX started to file her latest phrase away.

That, he said, refusing to let the latest go, that is new. Please explain it.

O'ro'shi considered. "Stone...to stand upon?" The Jedi nodded and she seemed to draw inward. After a minute she walked to a table. She stomped her feet on the ground. "Stone," she gestured to the ground, "to stand upon."

Well, he considered the plascrete floor. It was firm and hard, like a stone. Yes. I suppose.

She turned to the table, a makeshift rickety patch of plastic and paper. "Hollow stones" she said and put her weight on a corner. iX almost moved to catch the blue girl as the table creaked violently, but she lifted herself away before the weak table broke from the strain. "They hold no weight."

He'd heard her say this as well. SO, he considered, A "stOne tO stand UpOn" is sOmething that is sOlid. The blue head see-sawed back and forth. NO. StUrdy. Reliable. TrUstwOrthy. Shel considered this. You know the word trust. she nodded. And hOllOw stOnes are...UntrUstwOrthy. O'ro'shi shrugged. "Untrustworthy" she had perhaps not heard, or had not had explained to her before. MOre than that, he continued. False? A...lie?

O'ro'shi considered then slowly nodded."Lie," she nodded as she drawled on the word.

"There are many hollow stones here that This One did not see. Many," she tested the word, "lies," and she bent her head by way of apology. "The King upon his throne, weeping."

This one had already been translated previously and iX said YOU dOn't need tO be sOrry. This place will require work, and he gestured to the lights in particular, bUt all gOOd things dO.

iX bent to the task of clearing away the tables, moving some to other sides of the room, still others he moved outside to be recycled. He had learned a little of her history. How she'd reached Farpoint was unknown. She had been too young then to remember and her resistance to certain things-meditation took more discipline than could be taught in three days and touch seemed to embarrass her at best, infuriate her at worst-preventing him delving into her mind more deeply to help her seek more memories out. She was something of a wild thing, but orphan's who had learned to fend for themselves would be.

She had been bounced around several droid operated creches as a youngling, escaping-as she put it "jumping over the gatekeeper"-into the station and learned from then on how to take care of herself.

He had seen droid creches. They offered food and basic teaching, but it was little better than setting up the children for a life of servitude. Any child who was still in one by the age of ten tended to be sold off to whoever would pay the creche fee for a servant. Any child who had managed to avoid a creche past that age...those children skipped the benevolence of the cold hearted droids and went straight to a "trade school"-which was another way of saying state run forced labor-with slave collar and all the trappings for those who might try escape.

Escape might have seemed appropriate to a child who saw herself doing no wrong and owing nothing to a station that was imposing its will on her

So what Basic she had learned officially had been little more than "fetch, carry, stop, stand here," the obligatory "don't touch that" sprinkled with other basic commands a master might place on his servant.

She had survived by trash diving for a while, and once she was big enough to handle the labor, she had begun to find work on her own. The local police force-any authority to be truthful-was dangerous and untrustworthy as far as she was concerned.

By all rights he should go to the station commander and commandeer their holocommunicator. Demand passage on the first ship heading to the core worlds and be out of here. But iX was ithorian. As a species-and his own personal rule-he was in no hurry. A few weeks-maybe a month-on Farpoint would do no harm and would give him a chance to civilize the blue girl with the red eyes. Having this Wild Child running loose at the Jedi Temple in her current state would not do anyone any favors.

iX noticed, again, that the girl had disappeared. He turned to the sound of a soft clatter as O'ro'shi stepped into the main room. Without asking she had found a can of spray cleaner and a dirty washcloth from one of the cupboards in another room. She sprayed the window sill, saying "She has water to douse the flames," and began cleaning dust from the room.

iX considered that for a moment, among some of her other cryptic phrases, and took a guess. And I will be happy fOr the help.

O'ro'shi smirked often, but smiled rarely. It was a pleasant thing to see.

FOr nOw, iX glanced at the still open door and the sounds of shouting beyond, a scuffle beginning in the street past the alley. I believe we may have fOUnd OUr first cUstOmers'. O'ro'shi looked at the door too. Or they have fOUnd Us.

 **Tickets**

Bending nOses again?

A Besalisk winced as the Ithorian stepped around the curtain, kolto strips and tape in hand.

"He started it," the elder brother growled.

iX shook his head and set down the holorecorder; a small, battered thing that showed a scene of a young woman and man-both blue skinned-singing to one another in muted, garbled tones. Understanding them came slowly. Some of the issue was simple translation. iX had never heard Cheunh before and O'ro'shi's attempts to translate seemed to focus on the images themselves, not the words. Which made sense; the images were the most reliable part of the recordings.

Most of the problem was the recording itself: the data crystal was cracked with striations across its surface and whittling deep into the data's core. That it still played at all was a miracle, and the little holo had proved her most prized possession. That she had lent it to him spoke volumes about her trust.

He set the kolto and tape on a tray, took a disinfectant spray from a small drawer, ClOse yOUr eyes, he soothed and turned the patient's head to get a better angle. A thin wisp puffed from the spray bottle, and with gentle hands the Jedi Healer wiped away caked blood from the besalisk's face.

He glanced to his side at a low squelch. The besalisk looked too and winced when his head was firmly turned back to his healer.

"That the," and he didn't say "Weirdo'" in front of iX, even if the pause implied it, "the kid's?"

Yes, iX answered, wiping away another clot of blood.

"Do all her people talk as crazy as her?" the besalisk asked and iX tried to hold back another chuckle. A besalisk could lose an arm and shrug it off with a hundred questions if they saw something interesting. Hence the recording: it gave Corgik something to talk about and take his mind off what iX was doing to his face.

"How'd they ever understand each other?"

NO, iX replied, cleaning away blood clots with slow careful strokes. There was a long bruise and cut on the besalick's nose and several smaller ones on his cheeks. I actUally believe Otherwise. She spent so mUch of her fOrmative years seclUded. She's learned enOUgh Basic tO get by, tO trade, and tO find wOrk.

But her mind is trapped in this, he gestured to the recording. The blue woman-the princess he now knew-was swinging the knight's sword at a shadowy insectoid foe. What she feels, she has learned tO explain frOm the stOry it contains, and a few damaged jOUrnals frOm her mOther-I believe it was her mOther at least.

Corgik looked down at the fight scene playing out with his eyes, keeping his face where it was. "You know what she is yet? Where she came from?"

A low thrumbling noise came from iX's other mouth, his version of a grunt. Her species' name is nOt mentiOned, nOr their hOmewOrld. At least, he amended, nOt in the aUdiO that sUrvived.

Corgik tried to shake his head but iX had a firm grip on his chin and the besalisk grunted instead. "She'd have been better off in a creche if we'd'ah caught her when she was young enough. Past ten they won't take em any more. But she's a smart one, for better or worse." And the besalisk looked at the Ithorian with meaning when he said "She doesn't get caught unless she wants to."

iX chuckled and applied a thin strip of kolto to a cut on the man's cheek. Then YOU've knOwn her mUch lOnger than I-

"But barely at that-"

What dO yOU think "She cannOt make Ice frOm Salt" means tO her?

Corgik paused and, while distracted, iX cleaned the last of the clotted blood from his face. The besalisk didn't flinch, his mind too preoccupied to consider the pain. "I dunno," he admitted. "I know she's usually upset when she says it-I've heard her say it before. It's like...she's accusing you of something."

Very close, iX nodded. The blood was flowing freely again, and he placed a long strip of kolto across Corgik's nose. In fullness, she means "YOU ask the impOssible." Corgik smirked at this and a small "huh" of understanding came from the besalisk. She is chastising us for presenting a task she cannot complete.

Corgik's grin was genuine when he asked "You got that from watching a holo?"

iX shrugged, turning his attention to Corgik's left cheek. TO a degree. And by asking.

Her Basic is improving, yes?

"By leaps and bounds," his patient admitted. Then, "You're good for her iX. She's cleaned up, gained weight and she's happy. Nobody with a lick of decency likes watching the duct rats scurry around like they do. I'm amazed half of them make it as long as a year, and she's one of the oldest I know. Between the gas sweeps, the creche and police and the gangs-don't get me started on the gangs!" he tried to shake his head ruefully, but iX was still holding it. "She shoulda crashed out years ago."

iX considered the besalisk's concerns. I sUspect she wOUld have sUrvived regardless Of my interference, he whispered. She has an analytical mind, and sets tO tasks with great thOrOUghness.

Another grunt. "That's why I miss hiring her; you stole one of my best dock hands!" Corgik chided. Then, an admission: "Survive? You're probably right. But here she's thrivin. You do good work Jedi."

Three short umphing chuckles from the Master Healer. And yOU will pay me the difference, iX mused. But, had yOU Used wOrds instead Of fists, yOUr half wOUld be gOing intO yOUr pOcket and yOUr brOther's half intO his. Dawning realization began to spread on the besalick's face as iX applied tape to the kolto. NOw, iX spoke firmly, I expect a third Of it frOm bOth Of yOU.

"A third? That's a good 20 credits more than last time!"

iX considered the besalisk's rebuff. It was true, but The kOltO is nOt set yet; and expensive. If yOU wish… and the Jedi made a small motion as if he planned to remove the salve.

"No, no." then, "Alright. I get it. I'll consider it part of the kid's education fund."

The ithorian nodded sternly, payment settled. Still, iX sometimes felt a twinge of regret in charging for healing. He did not let it show though. It was known he accepted barter and trade-and when needed gave aid without charge. But Corgik and his brother were two of the best traders on Farpoint and could easily afford the price dictated.

And payment was a necessity. Two tickets to Tython cost considerably more than 20 credits. More than he had originally expected when he opened up shop in the small alley store.

Had he still been alone, he would have been happy to barter his services for much less; for nothing quite often. But he needed to get Oro to Tython too and that meant money. For a Jedi with no easy access to the Order? That meant a lot more money than he usually had. And he might have told Corgik his intentions, but said instead Her edUcatiOn, yOUr brOther is attending tO.

Corgik groaned. "He'll be alright," he said. Then, more of a question. "He'll be alright?" iX gave a noncommittal shrug. "He'll be alright." less sure.

The ithorian patted the besalisk on the shoulder, helping him up. YOU will be fine in twO days time, if yOU dO me the hOnOr Of nOt stOpping any mOre fists with yOUr face?

Guilty now: "His is on me," Corgik said, taking a small bundle of credit chits from his pocket. He set them on the table.

His is On him. iX said firmly, taking the proper amount from the pile and pushing the rest at Corgik. And dependant On OrO's wOrk. The besalisk made to protest but the Jedi held up a hand, admonishing. DO nOt try tO pay me fOr yOUr guilt.

Corgik slumped.

YOU shOUld apOlOgize.

"Yeah," Corgik agreed. "I will," and with some reluctance he pocketed the pile of credits.

"Later."

GOOd Day COrgik. iX trebbled another knowing sigh as he placed the disinfectant back in the drawer and stepped out of his "examination room", formerly the bakery's kitchen, and taking the remaining precious kolto-and holo-with him.

He sat down where he could watch O'ro'shi without hovering. The blue girl was still performing the disinfecting of Borgnik's mouth, and the besalisk was hemming and hawing at her efforts. Corgik and his younger brother Borgnik had been their first two patients and sent them regular business in the last month. Crew that were burned from an errant welder, someone dropped the power on a gravsled too soon, and the various knocks and scrapes that came from working near and around loading docks had made profit to iX's promise of "steady business". In truth, he'd had to turn a few away when larger freighters were being loaded and injuries that required more immediate attention cropped up.

From his desk he could see into all three rooms, and he surveyed the new clinic with some pride. The walls were the same welcoming tan they had been, honey colored and now well lit and soothing. The window was still cracked but had new stencils in several languages proclaiming "Farpoint Private Medical Station number 14" was open for business.

And business, on the whole, was good. The heavier tables had remained-with new padding applied to their tops-one of which served as iX's bed and another that would have been O'ro's had she not felt uncomfortable sleeping anywhere but on the ground. She kept a rolled up piece of bedding behind one of the "new" badly beaten cabinets and slept in a corner near one of the vents out of habit.

iX turned his attention to his assistant. O'ro'shi's hand was firm, and her red eyes brooked no nonsense from the younger brother as she wiped away blood from his chin. If she needed help, she would ask. If he thought she was wasting disinfectant he would tell her. And if she used too much of the expensive kolto, she would learn better quickly. iX did not burden his customers for his "assistant's" mistakes.

He turned again to the holo. It was his third playthrough of the recording, and he was near to memorizing it.

She called it the Song of Btin'v vircati tocat, which meant White Castle Gleaming-or as close as he could get. It involved a Knight, a princess and a greedy merchant at one point. Outside the castle was a picturesque meadow that the princess often goes to (with ferns and a soft breeze; A safe Place iX had learned). The princess was an apt singer and several times through the presentation led others in medleys (references to "song" and "chorus" for gOOd and bad things).

A weary knight comes down from a road, alone, the LOnely ROad, and tries to warn the king and royal family that a danger is coming. The king dismisses this threat and shows the knight how strong the castle is Which prOves "fOOlish".

The princess heeds the knights warning and tries to help him prepare the castle; she works on the nobles while he convinces the peasants. They begin to bring the villagers onto their side, notably a shady merchant offers to help fortify the castle, Selling PrOmises tO take them back later? Perhaps. The king gets wind of this and cloisters the princess while imprisoning the knight in a dark pit.

The castle is besieged by an insectoid enemy and parts of it are set on fire POOR prOdUctiOn values here. The fire Often "OUt Of place" from where it wOUld nOrmally be in real life. Since they had tO re-Use sets; but it wOUld confuse a yOUng mind like OrO's Once she nOticed it.. The king proves inept weeping On his thrOne, impotent, and the princess takes over, freeing the knight to fight for her people. The knight and the princess work together to put out the fire and save the other people. One notable image is of the princess striding from her throne to Easily crush an ember under foot before it burns the carpet of the audience chamber. Then she begins to rally the nobles to defence.

The walls are breached and viewers can see as some of the actors-and are struck by actual set pieces while they run for cover-that the stOnes Used are "hOllOw"; plastic as a thunderstorm begins in earnest.

And mUch meaning in thUnder. I sUspect...some Of that is nOt in this story. Blasters? ThUnder and lightning. What happened tO yOUr parents my little blue friend?

During the battle the knight is stabbed and the princess comes to his defense. She takes up his sword and fights off the attackers, then uses a salve to heal him of his injuries. She will fight with blade and lightning fOr yOU, and anoint your head with kolto etc, etc; nO sUrprise OrO takes that to heart. We all want to be the herOine Of OUr stOry.. The princess then marries the knight and they work to make the castle secure against any other invaders and her wOrds are StOne tO build UpOn; trustworthy. StrOng. A prOmise? PrObably. BUt it still seems tO mean mOre tO her...an Oath... he considered again.

"Master iX?" he looked up from the holo, switching the device off. She no longer wore the rags he had met her in. She wore a trim-well fitting-brown tunic, yellow pants and white slippers. Her face, when clean, was attractive angles. Sharp, but not harshly so. Scars from hard labor still riddled her hands, which she wrung uncertainty as she approached. But, if the holo was any indication, his little blue friend would be a beautiful member of her species when she was full grown. Which she almost was. He felt time pulling at him, and Tython called.

The third line he pressed, looking at her. Even seated, he was at eye level with her. YOU have had time tO cOnsider. Tell me yOUr mUsings.

O'ro'shi balked at him, confused. "But," she turned to the besalick, "Mister Borgnik-"

Is waiting, I knOw. iX nodded to her hurriedly. Then And I as well. QUickly, the third line and its meaning.

O'ro'shi took a frustrated breath. Then another, calmer. "There is no passion. There is serenity," she quoted. She reconsidered the words. "Passion leads to.." she fumbled, "the pit." iX, better understanding the Knight's dark prison nodded to her to continue. "She must...remain calm, lest she drop her candle and not see the bridge. Then she would Fall."

iX clapped his hands together. Better, he said. Passion is a fOrm Of attachment that will lead tO the Dark Side. A Jedi mUst be Serene in her thinking, O'ro'shi slumped slightly. Calm is acceptable fOr nOw. We will discuss the meaning of Serenity in mOre depth later.

"Then she must dismiss all emotion?" the blue girl asked. Then "Does Master iX feel nothing for her?"

The ithorian shook his head, reaching out to squeeze her arm. This time she did not show embarrassment at the touch. YOU knOw better than that! And we have discUssed yOUr leaps in lOgic. 'Only a Sith deals in sUch AbsOlUtes,' he reminded her.

DO nOt dismiss yOUr emOtiOns, OrO, he continued when her stoney face from the alley began to return. She blushed. A Jedi mUst knOw their feelings if they hOpe tO cOntrOl them. This means yOU mUst alsO be mindful Of their sOUrce.

"The ramparts fall?" then, a second attempt "Has she," the blue girl looked at her slippers, "failed?"

Did yOU learn sOmething?

"She believes so," O'ro'shi said with a nod. Then, more firmly. "Yes."

Then yOU have nOt failed. Learning frOm One's mistakes he said, laying a hand on her shoulder as he rose is never failUre.

"There is no ignorance," she intoned, "there is knowledge."

iX smiled with both his mouths.

NOw, he said, looking at the blue lipped besalisk with...yes, just the right amount of kolto applied for a novice, Borgnik, we will have sOme wOrds...

"He started it," the younger besalisk began.

 **Kolto**

"I wanna see it," Borgnik continued a month later, pointing a thick finger at the Jedi Master's robes.

Borgnik it is not a toy, iX said for what must have been the hundredth time by now.

Neither's a blaster," the besalisk countered, "but if it was a DX-001 I'd wanna see one of those too. Comeon," he pressed. "If not for me show the girl."

"The Day grows cloudy," O'ro'shi shook her head. "Storms come." Then, reconsidering, she said "You keep This One out of your schemes Merchant."

YOU don't need to be afraid of it, iX replied to her worry. It is a tOOL; Dangerous in the wrOng hands bUt I would never let it hUrt yOU.

"Don't pretend you aren't curious," Borgnik pressed. "I've seen your holo," and the besalisk grinned. "Your princess had a sword."

"It was the knight's," O'ro'shi admitted quietly but she turned to the ithorian too, her own curiosity piqued.

iX sighed, now outnumbered. YOU will make the call when I dO?

"On my honor," Borgnik held up a meaty hand in promise.

iX held out his hands in a show of surrender. FOr the kOlto, he said to them both, and reached into his robes. From within, he drew out a heavy thick cylinder, grooved lines crisscrossed along it's surface and a green crystal seeming to glow on one end. He turned the cylinder crystal down and pressed a stud on one side, the air igniting with a snap-hiss of crackling power as a green blade lept into existence. O'ro'shi jerked back in her chair.

Be at peace, he whispered, letting the lightsaber hum quietly in his hand. YOU have seen a laser scalpel. The principles are similar. This crystal, and he touched the pommel of the weapon, cOntrOls the cUrrent flOwing frOm the pOwer packs inside, directing it OUtward and cOntrOlling the length Of the blade.

"And it can cut through damn near anything," Borgnik whispered.

iX shut down the lightsaber and returned it to the hidden pocket in his robe. Lightsabers are fOr jedi, nOt fOr mining.

"Then She can not have one," O'ro'shi said wistfully, cutting off whatever retort Borgnik had been preparing. Both adults looked at the little blue girl. She wasn't sitting sadly, but there was regret in her red eyes.

iX sighed. Barring miracle or tragedy, the ithorian knew sO'ro'shi would never be accepted into the order. And he had made this plain to her as well. She was too old for formal Jedi training. Had she been just a few years younger, maybe as a foundling...he would have liked to have her as a padawan.

No. His duty was to get her to Tython, to get her before the reassignment council so that she could learn not to use her abilities recklessly. Training of a different sort, service of a different type. But no less honorable, and no less important.

YOU may never be a Jedi healer, he said and there was no regret in his voice when he walked over and lifted her thin chin so she had to look at him. "BUt I see yOU becOming a great dOctor sOmeday.

"Perhaps you'll have your own clinic," Borgnik put in and the blue girl snorted, shaking her head to release iX's grip.

"Mountains in mist," she smirked at the besalisk, but shrugged and added "though the children are playing."

Borgnik only nodded a grinning disunderstanding. iX now knew what these meant: She could not believe what Borgnik promised, but the idea of her becoming a healer and running a clinic made her happy.

O'ro'shi, iX had decided, had a nothing more than a simple speech impediment for her species. He had begun to tackle the task of her visual cues as one would someone who stuttered. Her species obviously put great stock in imagery and senses, notable from the few pieces of text that no amount of computer time had been able to translate from her holorecorder.

So an imagery based society would, by default, use images for communication. Even, perhaps, story supplanted to convey meaning. But when speaking to other species, they would also adopt the common language. O'ro'shi was only doing this partially. She spoke Basic words but she used the images of the holo. It was like having two feet on either side of a chasm. She was constantly under strain to convey what she felt in a way that was natural to her but was using a language that was not adapted to the images as she understood them.

The solution was actually quite simple. Once iX understood what her images meant, the task was to introduce her to the translation and make sure she used it. She still slipped back into her imagery speech, but she was making strides to translate herself when others needed it done.

We had an arrangement? iX said to the besalisk and Bognik Oh'd and apology, reaching for a holo transmitter.

"Sou'Kliv?" Borgnik almost shouted into the transmitter and iX frowned, tapping the translator on his chest. "Qaon ohk dan? Loo, loo. Do ksilan kub dan fic va'ni kolto cea ohk elan si'mori vil dan laboo ar fiyet jemalet bo? Do fic a awasan."

Of course, iX mused, some people were beyond translation. Especially when they kept switching from Basic to Ryl and back.

YOU knOw where tO gO?" iX turned to O'ro'shi in question.

"To the third level upspin, The Arcing Dodger. Port 3-2A," she recited. "If this Merchant is not peddling Ice, that is."

iX waved an admonishing hand at his assistant. KOltO this clOse tO its Use-by date will be sUsceptible tO cOntaminatiOn. I want yOU tO dOUble check all the seals and handle it with the UtmOst care."

"This will prove but embers," Oro smirked and snapped her fingers. "She will crush it under Her heel."

If yOU think it will be easy, iX replied, handing her the clinic's credit chit that she would use to pay for the liquid kolto that Borgnik had informed them about and was now in the process of bartering for them, "then I expect yOU back in a quarter cycle then. And nOt a drOp spilt.

"Alright," Borgnik interrupted the two, "deals good as done. Look for a Twi'lek named Sou'Kliv; blue skinned fellow about half a hand taller than you O'ro'shi. He's polylingual so he might even understand you," the besalick jibbed.

"Gatekeeper's whip," she grumbled and paused, "Perhaps there is some smoke She does not see?"

iX shook his head. YOU better rUn little blue girl.

Red eyes narrowed slyly as she said "King commands," and she made a short curtsy and a telling smirk as she backed out the door.

I knOw what that really means!

But she was already beyond the door, and he could hear her soft chuckle as she ran.

iX walked to the small pot in the corner of his office, poured a cup of kaf and, as if by magic, saw that he had not filled his cup. Borgnik had followed and managed to place his mug between the spout and its intended target. "A tip," the besalick said, and nodded his thanks.

iX shook his head, filling his own cup and sat down in the low wide chair behind his desk. "I have a bad feeling about this," he mumbled.

"About Sou'Kliv?" Borgnik asked, and was already shaking his head. "No way. He's a good medic and he wouldn't screw over another member of the Trade. He worked on one of my freighters a few cycles back before the captain of the Dodger backstabbed me and outbid his contract. Who'd'a'know," and he smiled at the Jedi Healer, "Some people get into the stitch'em'up game for the money."

NO, the ithorian sighed. NOt that. YOU've heard the rUmOrs. AbOUt the COre WOrlds recently, yes?

Borgnik had heard rumors, and again iX considered commandeering the holocommunicator from the station commander. Rumors of war. Of fighting in the core worlds. But just rumors. So, iX had done something he rarely did. He sought answers from the Living Force itself. He had meditated last night, in deep concentration on the tone of the universes, and what visions he had glimpsed disturbed him. Red lightsaber blades flashing in mist, their wielders in shadow. Screams, in pain and anger. A blaster wielded by a blue skinned man in military dress, red eyes staring menacingly at an unseen foe. What it meant, he was not sure. But it did not bode well.

"Well," the besalik made a show of leaning back on O'roshi's stool and sipping his kaf. "Not so recent; me and Corgik been hearing those long hairs for years. Republic at war, Hutts taking sides, unknown enemies. Crazy Killer Jedi?" iX shook his head at that. "Coruscant fell? HA! I never paid them much mind. We're safe here anyway; this rust bucket's too out of the way and too small of a target. Not worth the ammunition. Beside, you know what they say about reporters. That old yarn about "You bring the holocams, I'll bring the war?"

iX shook his head, the red flashing blades putting lie to that concern. Can yOU abide a minUte mOre?

"For free kaf? Sure."

iX leaned to the other side of his desk, pressing a series of buttons on a low disk on his desk. The FarPoint Station access terminal appeared and he cycled through the menus until he found the directory he wanted. A few exchanges with lower level bureaucrats and he sat facing the holo image of a robust young man in the gray dress uniform of Far Point's Command and Control Center. "Commander," the ithorian bowed in his seat. Borgnik's eyes widened. It hadn't taken iX more than two minutes to cut through the red tape and here was the man himself; the Commander in charge of Farpoint Station.

"Uh," and flustered in the bargain, the human appeared to be. "Master Jedi. I'd hear rumors one of your Order was here but I-"

Forgive me fOr nOt intrOdUcing myself earlier but I have a sitUatiOn that will reqUire immediate actiOn.

The human's face seemed to shed its blood, going an impossibly pale white in the blue holo. "Whatever Farpoint control can do for you, we will."

I need direct access tO the hOlOnet transpOnder COmmander and a secUre connection tO TythOn.

The commander whistled between his teeth. Then said, flushed, "Of course we'll do what we can for you. Encrypted access won't be a problem but boosting the transmitters to hit outside our hyper envelope is...expensive. Not to mention the exchanges for a direct channel to a Core world.

I feel cOnfident the Order will reimbUrse yOU in this matter.

"Sure," and the Commander began snapping fingers and issuing orders to his subordinates off screen. Then, "May I ask what this is in regards to Master Jedi?" And when iX did not immediately answer he pressed "We've got families here."

I sense nO imminent danger to FarpOint; mOre an unfOcUsed menace. SOmething distant, maybe, but it is nOt here yet. He wanted to reassure the man on the other side of the holo, tell him Farpoint was safe, but something had changed. Ithorians were not a rash or urgent people. But the weight of things coming toward him was building, and squeezing down on him like a too-low ceiling. BUt time is nO lOnger a lUxUry fOr me tO enjOy. I mUst speak with my Order immediately, and I am gOing tO reqUest that yOU flag the sOOnest transpOrt ship fOr twO passengers tO the cOre wOrlds.

"Two?" and the Commander seemed even more surprised by the number than the request. "For the price of expedited passage for two people to the Core worlds...one could almost buy their own ship at those rates."

"Wait a cycle Jon'kne," Borgnik interrupted. "I mean,uh, sir! My brother and I are heading out in 40 hours toward Plooma. It's a jump we can just as easy to go inward to Dantooine and that would put us in the lane for Ord Mantell. We can run them that far...for a modest fee."

YOU knOw I dO nOt have prOper fare at this time, iX admitted.

"I know you've been working your hump off to get tickets for you and Oro. I'm sure you've got enough to cover the transit costs. As for the food and board...I've soaked up enough of your kaf and cheese wedges the last month, I won't begrudge you a week's worth of meals. And she's little enough you can double bunk."

iX said nothing. He knew that the besalick brothers had a set route-circular-and that taking them out of their way could incur costs to them in lost trade further down the line.

"If you're worried about it so much, have the Order put it on Farpoint's tab. I promise not to overcharge them," Thick white teeth smiled in a wide grin "Too much."

"I can get you a comm channel in 30 microts Master Jedi," Commander Jon'kne interjected. "But the Wading Star would be the earliest departure towards the Core Worlds, if Captain Corgick is planning to leave in the next 2 cycles."

"Sooner if you can expedite," the besalick offered.

"Purser Borgnik," Commander Jon'kne managed a rueful chuckle, "do you ever stop squeezing credits?"

"Only when they squeal, sir." the besalick admitted. "Only when they squeal!"

The Commander shook his head, then nodded. "I'll have the porter put Wading Star at the top of the list. Should shave off a good ten hours. Is that soon enough Master iX?

The Jedi nodded, not saying It will have tO be. Then.

"But I'm confused Master iX. Why do you need transport from us? Doesn't this have anything to do with the ships that just jumped in?

"What ships?" iX and Borgnik asked together.

"We don't know," Jon'kne admitted. "Big ones-and armed-though, and they're not responding to our comms. Never seen a profile like theirs before. Here, let me," and the holo went dark for a moment, to be replaced by a pair of large vessels making speed toward the station.

Swooped downward like a flattened cone, bristling with sensors and-iX noted-heavy weapons ports, the larger of the two ships could be nothing less than a battle cruiser. and the plump afterthought beside it would be a troop carrier

"See," the commander was continuing off screen, "its odd for ships to come this far in system without answering comms. We were actually starting to get a little worried-I already sent our escort wing out to check on them and they should be in range in few OrOshiO'ro'shimoments-but if these are Republic vessels-.

Get yOUr ships back and bring yOUr shields Up nOw COmmander

"Wha-"

NOw COmmander!

 **Crawl**

"Is good kolto, yes?" the Twi'lek fidgeted as O'ro'shi slid the examiner tube into the appropriate slot." You see, yes. And Three Seventy is good price for this much. One third value. But is old. Will not survive many jumps. Must leave, very wasteful.

"Hmm," the blue girl nodded, cracking one of the seals on a small jar of kolto strips. The Twi'lek fidgeted again, preparing to admonish her for touching or tasting the medicine. There were many ways to tell if kolto was turning, most involving touch. Rancid kolto that touched the skin had a cooling effect, not the numbing one healers needed.

But instead of touching the contents, O'ro'shi surprised the healer by lifting the small jar to her nose and inhaling deeply.

"The scent is strong," she cautioned and Sou'Kliv took a preparatory step toward the container. But O'ro'shi smiled as she replaced the lid. "But it is not turned."

"The price was three fifty," O'ro'shi admonished. A soft chirp emanated from the examiner and she pulled the tube out to inspect it.

"Was it? You're sure?" O'ro'shi raised an eyebrow at the Twi'lek and he smiled, "You're sure. No haggle, okay, three fifty, not big drop; got to move it fast. Must jump soon, we leave tomorrow for the Rim. It has to stay behind.

"Is good kolto?" he asked again.

"Yes," O'ro'shi nodded. "The kolto is good." Lifting the credit chit from her tunic, she held it to hime. "This will still suffice?"

As soon as the chit appeared, the twi'lek made it disappear. "Yes yes; Farpoint credit clears, is good, come with me. We take payment."

So quickly did he speak and so jerked were his words-one way then another-like a circuit coil out of phase jumping in its suspender-that o'ro'shi had a merry time trying to keep up.

"It was here O'ro'shi realized her Master's true intent. This man did not speak Basic naturally. He was translating his own thoughts from his tongue to Basic, and the words were...off. Not wrong; they carried the correct meaning. It was like their shop window. You could still see through it easily, but there was a flaw in his speech for anyone to see. Or hear.

The twi'lek was practice for her, and needed practice too. Quite often with of station patients iX had been forced to play translator for her. Sending her on errands like this forced her to consider her words, to not slip into her usual speech.

"Yes yes?" Sou'Kliv asked and O'ro'shi realised she had let her mind drift; had not been listening to him.

She was just about to admit as much when the deck heaved. Overhead, an alarm sounded a low trumpeting drone of ominous warning and the sation lights turned red. The short time she had spent in the droid creches had drilled all the station alarms into her, but after so long, she had almost forgotten this one.

Battlestations

"Qa iniban!?" the twi'lek squeaked.

"Storms come! Thunder crashes overhead!" she shouted over the alarm but the twi'lek balked at her. Desperate, she pulled herself up short, trying in vain to ignore the sudden commotion around her and the panic rising inside. She took a calming breath, reaching for the place deep inside that iX had told her about, that he had forbade her to touch-yet.

Serenity was a fragile thing as she said with slow deliberation "The station is under attack!"

Sou'Kliv still seemed unable to comprehend. She grabbed the kolto canisters up and shoved them into a carry bag. "You have been paid," she pointed to his pocket and the credit chit within. "Flee to safety."

Another blast shook farpoint and the two exchanged a glance that needed no translation. Sou'Kliv turned at a run toward The Arcing Dodger. O'ro'shi began to sprint downspin toward the clinic and iX.

The station was now covered in red; the eerie lighting cast odd shadows as emergency power was diverted from everything to the shields. She clutched the bundle in her arms like it was a lost child, unsure what was happening or why.

Who would attack Farpoint? Mountains in Mist-it made no sense! Another trembling crash shook the station and O'ro'shi lost her footing. Almost as an afterthought, she grabbed for one of the pockets in her pants, pulling a thin rod from inside. She pressed a series of buttons and the activation stud. Text flashed from a tiny holoreceptor instead of the usual verbal queue.

ALL EXCHANGES ARE RESERVED FOR THE CURRENT EMERGENCY. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. IF YOU ARE INJURED OR IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE PLEASE PRESS-

"Fie!" she snarled, shoving the communicator back into her pocket, still running. "The Knight's sword dropped!" she pulled the communicator out again, pressed iX's desk number again.

ALL EXCHANGES ARE RESERVED FOR THE CURRENT EMERGENCY. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. IF YOU ARE INJURED OR IN NEED OF IMMED-

"The King surveys the ramparts and sees no threat!" she swore at the little machine in her hand, shoving it again in her pocket.

This time, is was not a simple shudder. The station around her seemed to explode in every direction, plastic and metal and bodies thrown askew in every direction. A gravsled skittered past her face as a sudden "whoosh!" of sound and confusion enveloped her.

O'ro'shi had never felt or heard a strong wind; such things like "weather" did not exist on Farpoint Station. She had no reference for the sensation that crawled over her skin as she stumbled up from the ground that had suddenly come to meet her. She gripped the kolto in one hand, trying to make sense of the horror she had only seen once in a creche training vid.

She did not know wind, but anyone on the station understood evacuating air from a large hole in the stations hull.

Bulkheads were coming down to seal the affected area-and her-as precious life giving air was pumped from a crack the size of a small door.

She knew she wouldn't make it to the next section. But she could-

Sprinting now, all thoughts of the kolto's fragility forgotten, she threw the bundle next to an air circulation vent a shoved both her hands through the grate, pulling with everything she had.

The ducts would have seals as well, but she had long learned how to manipulate them to avoid gassings from the station patrols catching duct rats. Would they be able to hold back hard vacuum as well?

Fingers raw and bloodied, the grate gave way with a scream of panic and she threw it aside, shoving kolto and shoulder through. Another moments panic as her hips stopped short in the vent but digging in her toes saw her squirm into the duct beyond. The air was getting thin. Hard to breathe. And outside the vent, it was growing quieter.

Her head pounded from lack of oxygen as she reached the seal, pressed the commands for an emergency open.

It didn't respond. She beat on the door, smearing blood onto the control panel as tears began to fill her eyes. It was getting cold now-so cold, so quiet, so painful to think

She pressed the command again, deliberately taking her time to ensure she hit the buttons in the right sequence.

WARNING. UNSEALING THIS SECTION WILL CAUSE NEGATIVE PRESSURE TO OTHER AREAS. DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?

"Weeping King! YES!" and then, almost without thinking, she translated "Yes, you idiot."

The seal oscialted open, blowing more air into her face and she crawled through, kicking at the emergency close once it was behind her.

 **Chiss**

The deck plates heaved and sparks sizzled from the overhead light as it cracked under the bending strain. iX teetered as Farpoint Station bucked around him, alarms blaring from the alleyway. He grabbed the bed to steady himself and the room continued to shake. With his other hand he injected an Aqualish with stimulant, checked that the thready pulse had strengthened then grabbed for a suture kit-he was down to needle and thread now.

The Aqualish security guard did not move or groan as iX began to seal the long gash along its leg. This was not a good sign.

"What are you still DOING here!" came a shout from the door. iX did not look up from his work, He pulled the patient's head to the side and shone a light into one of its eyes, then away, then back. Pupils did not respond and the eyes were glassy.

HOld this One dOwn, iX said, moving to a dispensary and grabbing a large needle in a clear plastic bag.

"Wha-" Brogink began but iX snapped his head up.

NOw! iX ordered, sharp authority in his voice.

The besalisk grunted but did not hesitate, coming to stand at the Aqualish's head.

By her shOUlders, and firmly, iX instructed, placing one hand on the Aqualish's abdomen, the other aiming the needle at its heart. She will mOve, and with a practiced hand he stabbed the large needle into the patient's chest. At first nothing, then a jerk upward that almost caught the heavy besalisk unprepared. Another kicking jerk, and another. Then the Aqualish was still.

"Will she live?" Brognik asked, letting the pressure ease as the patient's body calmed. iX's hands were a brown blur, checking pulse, response, inspecting the wound.

He did not look up from the Aqualish as he said, soberly, That remains tO be seen.

The besalisk slumped with a sigh, shaking his head and wiping sudden sweat from his face. Then, remembering why he was here. "We are leaving-"

I am begging yOU nOt tO, iX interrupted.

"We can't stay here iX!" Borgnik pushed on. "There are imps three alleys down from us right now and they just gassed one of the residential sectors when the security team refused to surrender. Someone said they spaced a whole section-"

There is still time tO stabilize these twO, iX interrupted again. He had not stopped working as the besalisk began his tirade, but had shifted his attention from the-no longer bleeding-aqualish to a badly burned Gran, one of its eye stalks crushed. He looked again at the ruin of the Gran's face. There was nothing for it, the eye and stalk would have to be amputated. The emergency drOids will be Online in bUt a few minUtes, and I trUst Oro will retUrn! Then, she and I will away with yOU, iX took a calming breath, looked up from the Gran at the besalisk and said I swear it.

"iX she might not be able to get to us-"

TrUst in the FOrce, the Jedi intoned

"There's more besides," the besalisk pressed. "You know the ships were an odd configuration?" iX nodded. "A shell not seen before?" another nod.

"The soldiers weren't 'unknown' when they landed."

iX did look up, confused. They're imperials, he began but the besalisk shook his head, chins wagging.

"Not just imperials iX," and he leaned forward, almost conspiratorially when he said "A bunch of blue skinned people came out of one of the troop carriers.

"People are saying She's an imp!"

If iX was stunned he did not show it. He drew himself up. She is my assistant. She will be my padawan! She is a gOOD girl.

"I know that or I wouldn't let either of you near my ship!" the besalisk said defensively. "But people are saying it iX!" the ithorian began to shake his head again, but Borgnik pushed on. "For all you know she's gone. She's a survivor-and they won't hurt one of their own, right? You need to get out! Think of her! What'll it do to her if you-"

I am thinking Of her the Jedi cut him off. I am thinking I will have tO face her after this day.

The besalisk wavered physically, then groaned, wiping his face with his hands. "Look," he said, "I can't wait on you but we're still fueling and that will take at least another quarter cycle. I'll keep the side service hatch open as long as I can but when we get pre-flight done, we're rockets down. You understand? The Wading Star is leaving Farpoint with or without you."

I Understand, the Jedi said, and bowed. And thank yOU fOr the time.

Borgnik looked like he wanted to say more, turned back and forth searching for something. Then, with another groan, he turned and left the clinic at a lumbering run.

iX turned back to the gran. The amputation could wait, but the skin burns would require a Kolto tank and a week to heal properly at least. Neither of which he had.

iX reached into his robes and pulled his lightsaber from its hidden pocket, the green/white crystal shimmering in the medbay light on its pommel. Closing his eyes, the Jedi concentrated on the Living Force flowing around the garn, the medbay, and deep within himself. There were no chants or prayers to speak that improved his ability to heal, no superstitious nonsense that gave him greater power than others. But the crystal in his lightsaber did provide a focus point for his mind, and he cradled the garn now with an invisible hand, soothing the burns, cleaning the black skin.

Healing. With the Living Force itself.

Moments passed in the stillness of the medbay, iX standing in mute serenity, letting his mind stretch beyond his body around and through the medbay. The garn would live, the aqualish with luck, and the others who lay on beds, sat on the floor or collapsed into chairs were as stable as he could make them.

He set the lightsaber back in his robes and a small buzzer sounded from the holo disc on his desk at the far side of the room. He moved with quick steps-for an ithorian-and pulled the small communicator to see a line of text.

The holonets must be down for there was no miniature image of the blue girl on the holo. Instead, a thin line of text hovered above the communicator. "She skulks as a thief; she carries his prize. Shadows walk everywhere. Thunder clashes overhead! Much thunder; lightning everywhere! Command and she will obey."

iX took a proprietary moment to sigh. O'ro'shi was alive and still free.

Stay away frOm blaster fire! he told her, translating "lightning" and the threat of "thunder". Meet me at the Wading Star, he told the communicator, the words translated to text; then, knowing Oro would argue with bundles of kolto and patients to attend, he added. OUr patients are safe. DO nOt retUrn tO the clinic."

And, as if a promise fulfilled by the Force, his words came true. A thin droid stepped into the clinic as he waited for O'ro'shi's reply.

"You have requested medical aid for…" the droid trailed off, its processors under strain as it scanned the myriad cases around it.

DrOid, iX called, grabbing the medical droid's attention. He pointed to the aqualish. LaceratiOns On the left leg and abdOmen, femOral artery has been sUtUred, 12 Units stems and 50 Units of adrenals applied UpOn Atrial fibrillatiOn, iX continued pointing from one patient to the other, describing symptoms and treatment but the medical droid stepped to the aqualish-the most severe case-first.

Another buzz from the communicator. "She has water to douse the flames! She has the kolto!"

I need nO help, he replied. And I will nOt be at the clinic. Obey me child. Meet me at the Wading Star. GO nOw!

"Please be aware that payment for treatment is expected within thirty Galactic Standard Days pursuant time of treatment-" the droid was saying.

Bill Me! iX almost shouted, hunched over the communicator awaiting her response. Please; dO nOt be stUbbOrn tOday. NOt tOday.

The droid began to scan the Garn, and iX took a few precious seconds to watch its progress. One more Buzz from the communicator. "She will obey," and iX closed down the device.

Ithorians and running do not often mix. When they do, it is an odd combination of swooping gait and short jumps. iX ran from the clinic now his patients were under new care, turning down a side alley to his left when he heard a mass of blaster fire and a booming explosion to his right. He lept over crates, strewn clothes and dropped cargo. And the dead where they lay. Farpoint was no longer under siege. It was occupied. He didn't dare waste a moment to look at his chrono. If he was late…

At the mouth of the alley he saw a pair of imperial droids standing guard. Reaching out to the Force iX "pushed" the pair out of his way, letting his lightsaber loose for a second to ignite, decapitate and return to his robes in a series of fluid motions that looked like one.

He turned again down another alley, jumping and bouncing off the walls where the path was blocked, barricaded and felt a pang as he passed a live but dying body of a security guard intertwined with the imperial that had killed him. Would kill him. Because the man would die without help.

I'm sOrry, iX thought, but ran on. Space stations like Farpoint had no rooftops to skulk across, no sewers to slip though. They were a mass of walls to ceilings, becoming buildings, roads becoming alleys and vents so small even O'ro'shi couldn't fit through them now, he was sure. As he reached the spaceports he knew there would be a confrontation. There was no place to hide from it; no passage to slip around it. Only through.

But what he faced, he dreaded.

Seven people barred his way. Six imperial uniforms in grey and white and black, light armor and blaster rifles at the ready

Six blue skinned adults, each staring at him with hard, glowing red eyes, all knowing the Jedi for what he was at a glance. These were experienced combatants, and the looks of hate they gave him said they had faced his kind before. I've been tOO lOng away, iX admonished himself.

And the one in the middle, her robes grey tattered and from a careless hand, face red and fierce with a mirthless smile of anticipation.

One of the blue men, an officer from his cut, hefted a pistol in his hand, pointing it at iX's chest. The Sith beside him chuckled. "The Eternal Empire and The Chiss Ascendancy commands your surrender Jedi," the blue man said.

SO, iX stood to his full height, letting his arms spread in a gesture of peace as he had with O'ro'shi long ago. This time, however, the lightsaber leapt from his robes into his hand. YOU are Chiss? I wish I cOUld have had the chance tO discUss the SOng Of Btin'v vircati tOcat in detail with yOU. One of them, a young lady to his far right, flinched.

Alas, and the air hissed as a bright-light green blade snapped into existence at his side. I regret this is nOt the time.

 **Healer**

O'ro'shi heaved and with a pain induced yelp the vent pushed free. She crawled with elbow and thigh through the hole.

With a puff to blow sweat slicked greasy hair from her face, she dragged her leg out of the duct, pulling on a cord and the bundle she had dragged behind her.

"Was the wind at her back or did the breeze blow against her?" she worried, scanning the spaceport around her. There were no people around; strange to see the port empty when it had always been the hub of life and trade for Farpoint.

No; she realised as she slipped deeper into shadow. It was not empty. A pair of imperial droids "clunk clunk clunked" past her with blasters at the ready, sweeping the area for refugees or hostiles. O'ro'shi held her breath, watching as they passed.

These Imperials-she'd heard them called-were not as experienced with the ins and outs of Farpoint as local security and police, but they were a methodical people. She knew she could not hide long.

"The Day grows cloudy; storms come," she peered at the loading bays on the other side of the port. It would be a short run any normal day to reach the Wading Star and Master iX. Today it was an exposed chasm with Imperial eyes daring her to stick her toe out.

Instead she slid along the sides, slithering under speeders and squeezing between crates. She stopped many times, her breath a panicked pant and blood roaring in her ears as she stretched them out to listen for the shadows that whispered threateningly to her. Only when she was sure she had heard nothing-or what her imaginings had heard were not there-did she move again.

She was getting closer to the main entrance than she was to the Wading Star when she began to hear voices ahead. She stifled a moan but continued forward.

"No," a grating female voice snapped. "We wait here. He's coming."

A mumbled reply and O'ro'shi slid slowly around a gas canister, using it to hide from the seven people guarding the entrance. Despite herself she gasped, rising from her crouch.

They were...her…

The bodies before her were dressed in gray and white uniforms, but the faces and eyes, the angled lines; they were blue! They were like her!

And as he exploded from an alley, arms drooping as he walked the short distance to the seven people blocking him, she knew something else.

Her people were going to kill Master iX!

"The Eternal Empire and The Chiss Ascendancy commands your surrender Jedi," one of the blue men said. Whimpering, O'ro'shi shivered behind the canister, frustrated tears streaking down her face.

SO, iX stood to his full height, letting his arms spread in a gesture of peace as he had with O'ro'shi long ago. This time, however, he held his cylinder in his hand. The blade of lightning remained hidden, but the air itself seemed to tense as the cylinder was exposed.

YOU are Chiss? I wish I cOUld have had the chance tO discUss the SOng of Btin'v vircati tOcat in detail with yOU. O'ro'shi gasped.

Alas, and the air hissed as a bright-light green blade snapped into existence at his side. I regret this is nOt the time.

For all his purposeful movements, his careful, slow, deliberate thought, O'ro'shi could never have imagined iX moving so fast. Blasters snapped up, green light screaming from their barrels, but the blade of lightning blurred into a perfect circle, a shield from the malice given life that stabbed toward him.

Panic doubled in her as she returned to a time she had buried deep within. A Woman's scream, the sound of thunder. Her name cried, whimpered, whispered in prayer.

"O'ro'shi," a bloody chiss had cooed, laying her into the escape pod. In a language she could not remember but could never forget, the woman said "Be strong and wise my little Windbreaker."

Snapped back to the present, O'ro'shi gagged at the memory, the pain and remembered loss. "Mother," she moaned to the memory. "Father," she called to the ithorian and the present.

Two of the Chiss were down, and a third dropped with a shout as blaster fire rebounded back at iX's attackers. He dodged to the side, crates and canisters jumping from the floor to defend him as a grey clad woman let her own lightsaber hiss into existence, the blade as red and fierce as a Chiss's eyes. With a scream she exploded toward iX as fast as any blaster bolt and the chiss held fire, charging forward to follow. The two blades screamed and snapped-

And for a brief moment O'ro'shi understood. There was no emotion in iX's movements. He was at peace with the world around him. Within himself. He spared no time for the ignorant screams and slashes of the woman who tried with everything she was to cut him down, to punch and claw and kick and spit at him. He used what he knew to hold her at bay. He did not succumb to her taunts and screams, he flowed with lightning blade and the Force, serenely dodging her, blocking her attacks. And through the chaos of crates and red slashes, he was in harmony with the world around him. He was the center of the typhoon. "Surely," she thought. "He could not be touched." There could be no death to a Jedi like iX.

iX slid around the other force wielder, in and through her thrusts. When he struck she screamed again, snarling and spitting without words, sometimes laughing when his blade did not strike home. But O'ro'shi could almost feel the rage and fear coming off the woman in waves. The shadow woman was panting in her hate, her attacks uncontrolled and undefined. Somehow, despite iX's calm, they were evenly matched.

The red blade drew back and the woman snarled at iX, and jumped. No. Flew at the ithorian. He held up a hand, grunting and O'ro'shi could feel the force of air exploding from his hand and the canister she hid behind shake. The woman-midair-tumbled end over end, a mass of legs and arms and red light screaming and cackling and cursing Master iX as she tumbled toward O'ro'shi.

Then iX saw her, only because she was now directly behind the sith. NO! he roared, jumping-flying after the sith-his blade a blur as he refocused the attack.

"Shoot this piece of bantha shit!" the woman screamed and O'ro'shi ducked as green lightning rejoined the battle. The canister shook and she could smell ozone and melting electronics, heat warped metal giving off fumes that made her cough as a green light flashed past her face and she squeaked, momentarily blinded by the brightness of it.

iX was a blur, swinging his lightsaber behind his back, he deflected another pair of blaster bolts. The weapon came back over his head and down in front of him, slashing the thrust of the red lightsaber in front of him. The sith grunted again, using iX as a shield from the blaster fire as she pushed her insane attack on him. O'ro'shi could not see the woman's sneer but she could hear her cackle, feel her anger; the young chiss was drenched in fear. Covered in it, sullied. Dirty from proximity.

"Nursemaid...weeps," she panted. "'Such a dirty child'. How can she breathe from the stench!" she grabbed her head in her hands, groaning from the bombardment of emotion from the sith. She saw The Pit in that woman, a million billion trillion crazy faces in the dark beyond, laughing at her, beckoning, cooing, crying, cursing, pleading, demanding O'ro'shi join them.

"No!" she snarled defiance.

The chiss tried to tackle iX from behind, three bodies collapsing onto him. Then he wasn't there. With a smooth step to the side, he dodged them, slicing one from crotch to neck as his blade moved to block another furious jab from the sith.

"Die! Die die die die die diediediie!" spit and words and insanity assailed him but iX blocked each strike with grace, with poise. He cut her. Slashed an arm, crippled a leg, and with a swift twist of the blade both blocked and impaled the sith in one stroke.

All without seeing the blaster slam into his head.

The ithorian bent almost double, his lightsaber skittering onto the ground to stop next to O'ro'shi's feet as if aimed. And with the last of him, the ithorian let loose a bellow with both mouths.

The world was suddenly wrong. The sith and the two remaining chiss clutched their ears, and O'ro'shi watched in unrealizing confusion as iX screamed and fell.

O'ro'shi's scream would have warred to match iX's but there was no way any but an ithorian could make such a noise. As her master slumped to the ground O'ro'shi clutched at her feet, stepping out of cover, unthinking.

The red skinned woman turned slowly, still dazed and dying and fumbling in her throws. Her own red lightsaber swung around in a wild, unwieldy arc. O'ro'shi ducked and struck, igniting her Master's weapon in the same motion. Unsheathed, the blade extended up, out and through the sith, and the other woman gasped falling forward slowly, gravity slicing her neatly in half as she dropped.

O'ro'shi stared at the woman for a moment more, then turned again, the green blade a blur as it sank again into flesh. The chiss beside iX's body howled, falling aside and O'ro'shi howled again at the pit before her, at the last to die.

Only when all the others were still did she drop to her knees, a low slow weak moan building in her chest and out of her mouth.

She looked at the lightsaber. Then at iX. Then her hands. Blue hands, murdering hands. No healer's hands these. It still had one more chiss to kill…

O...O'rO…

"Master?" her voice trembled to match her shivering body, she blinked and looked again.

O'rO… it was one of the few words that required no translation from iX's machine.

"Master!" she screamed, crawling to his body in a heap. "The Festival of the New Sun! Children come out and play!"

O'rO, and he tried feebly to move.

"She has water to douse the flames. Buckets!" And she bent, reaching to his side and helping the ithorian to his feet.

Where...is O'rO? The hard fall had done some damage and the translator's speaker crackled the words at her, and she shook her head.

"She is here," O'ro'shi said, hauling the ithorian up to a crouch. Then, dropping to a whisper, and used the familial address, "I'm here. I am right here Master iX."

Oro...the kOltO. NOt tOO mUch..

"Yes master; there will be kolto. I brought the kolto." and she reached behind her, showing him the bag. An afterthought, she grabbed the lightsaber from the ground, iX wavering when she bent. And one more thing.

The sith's lightsaber. She took that heavy cylinder too. It would be worth something in trade to get them...somewhere.

iX seemed to regain focus, he glanced at the chiss trying feebly to hold him up. "The Wading Star," he said and looked at one of the airlocks.

"Her Words are the Stones of Houses," O'ro'shi promised. "She will bring him to the Wading Star!"

They limped and walked and crawled, and O'ro'shi groaned under the weight of him but would not let iX fall again. Bloody gashes from the vent reopened as she clawed on his tunic to keep him upright.

The brOthers...are fighting...again… iX moaned and sank to his knees at the airlock.

As she tried to get him to stand again, she felt the hump of his head, and found a hollow. iX was not dead, but his head was partially caved in by the blaster strike.

OrO...my little blUe child. Sweet...little…

O'ro'shi screamed at the airlock, pounding with her free hand. She screamed like the sith, roaring in rage and fear and loss, smearing red handprints on the door.

And then the door opened, and Corgik was there.

"Oh thank the Force you two are okay," he began. Then he saw the red dripping from O'ro'shi's fists.

And then he saw iX. "Oh no. Oh no. No. No…"

"Please," the word was small from her lips, and she looked up at the besalisk, and for the first time in her life, she begged. "Help?"

Still stunned at the sight of iX, the besalisk remained motionless for precious seconds. Then he realised where he was, who was in front of him, and what that meant if they were discovered on a Farpoint Station in Imperial hands.

"Ok kid, I get it," and he bent, iX an easy burden for the big besalisk. "We're getting you both out of here. Now!"

 **After**

He was staring at her. O'ro'shi kept her hands in her lap and sat on a metal bench beside a pair of great doors. The Republic trooper who had "escorted" her to the Jedi Council said nothing, but kept his eye on the blue skinned girl-on the chiss, the enemy in his midst. She could feel his anger. It made her feel unwashed, unworthy, unwelcome.

She was becoming used to the stares. At glances as people passed. Half raised blasters when the Republic military personnel saw her for the first time confirmed that the Chiss were well known in the core worlds now. Her people had been at war with the Republic, serving their enemy the Empire, for longer than she had lived. Even with hyperspace, the big wars did not always reach every corner of the Outer Rim. Farpoint had been spared save from rumor and half chewed news...until now. There was talk of retaking the station, but just talk. It was too far away, too secluded.

Farpoint was unimportant to the efforts of the war.

The Wading Star had run all the way to Byss, and from there the besalisk brothers had helped her convince a Republic military transport of iX's identity, her trustworthiness and the need to get them both to Tython. She'd stayed in the medbay as much as possible, keeping vigil at her Master's side. But also avoiding the looks. The hate. The fear.

"O'ro'shi?" a soft voice asked at her side and she jerked. She was tired from the trip, hungry-she'd eaten little and rarely on the way-and afraid. They had taken iX away from her as soon as they hit planetside and she had been "escorted" to the Jedi Council chambers. And then told to wait outside. That seemed hours ago.

She looked up and saw a padawan who was performing courier duty today. "The Masters will see you now," the young human said, motioning her to follow.

She rose with a nod and tried to get a good look at his eyes. But when she stared into his, he looked away, turned away and walked to the door. Had he avoided her gaze? Even on Farpoint people had been uncomfortable with glowing red eyes staring at them.

Maybe it was just old fashioned discomfort. But she couldn't help wondering as she went where he motioned and stepped into the large oval room, the round table before her and four people seated at the other side. Two were humans, male and female. The third was a male Cathar. A fifth, a togruta female present at the audience via holocommunication stood slightly aside. Wherever she was in the galaxy, there was apparently no chair. In the center of the group, a Kel Dor waved her to take a seat, which she did.

They introduced themselves and she nodded, but in moments she had forgotten their names. It was not like iX meant when he said "there is no emotion". She was hollow. Emptied. Exhausted.

They asked her questions and she answered. Who she was, why she was here, but mostly they asked about iX. What had he been doing for those lost decades-had he been away so long? What was he doing on Farpoint, what was her relationship to him-had he been training her as a padawan. This last was asked incredulously and more than once in more than one way, as if trying to trick a different answer.

"You have asked this many times," she said at last when one of the humans tried to get her to describe how Force Empathy might be applied. "In many ways. Her Words are Stone to stand upon: iX taught her," she choked, feeling frustrated tears begin to well, but held her face firm and denied the water's flow. "He taught her to love the Force but not to use it. Master iX was clear that would come here and not before. He taught her kolto and salve, he taught her suture and stitch, and he taught her that she is not a serf. That She has worth!"

"We know that," the Kel Dor-Master Braga, she remembered at last-said with a raised hand to calm her. "It is simply unusual for one as old as you to be offered initiation into the Order. We are concerned other...liberties might have been taken."

"iX was nothing but honorable," she said at that, fuming. "His words were Stone of Castles and she slept under their shelter! You dishonor yourselves by seeking cracks in his walls."

The Kel Dor seemed taken aback, either misunderstanding her accusation or earnestly abashed for her rebuke. Finally he said, and turned to the others to make the point, "The question has been asked and truthfully answered. We need not ask it again."

The togruta turned her head and sniffed, irritated. Her voice sounded washed out, like she was speaking through water. "And her claims that he was her Master then?" O'ro'shi had learned the togruta had been padawan to iX many years ago, and she took the part of former student proprietarily.

And despite herself, O'ro'shi voice cracked. "She will not answer again. You will believe her," she said, an ultimatum, "or you will dismiss her." She did not want to be here. She did not know these Masters. She wanted to be with iX. He needed her to apply new kolto and sing to him. He did not stir when she sang, but lay and rested and slept. And when he did wake and she was near he seemed...not better. Calm.

"We understand," the male human said, holding his hands out palms down and pushing downward in a "take it down a few degrees" gesture cargo porters would have used on the docks. "We have a few more questions-specific to how Master iX was injured-If you'll answer them."

O'ro'shi squirmed uncomfortably but nodded.

"You said iX killed the sith." she nodded. "Can you explain again, in as best detail as you are able, how.

"He impaled the sith," was all she said this time. The master sighed. Obviously, he'd wanted more.

The female woman spoke up. "He was standing before her? Yes?"

"Yes."

"So they were looking at each other when he Redeemed the Sith," several of the Masters flinched at the word, but said nothing. O'ro'shi still felt confusion at the term; she thought it meant other things than life taking, but she nodded an affirmative. "Yes."

"But he was struck in the hump," the female tapped the back of her head, "from above and behind."

O'ro'shi sighed, said again, "There were many boxes of cargo and canisters of liquid and gas. There were great and heavy things and they threw much of the spaceport at each other. With their minds."

The female pressed "But there was no one else around. It was just you, Master iX and this sith."

O'ro'shi re-examined her reply again, found no fault when she said "The sith, Master iX and the chiss." And so, technically, she had not lied. Why she wanted to keep this fact from them she was uncertain. But that a chiss had brought her master to his end…

She looked away in shame. "She would have brought water to douse the fire, but it was too hot; so much anger and rage, and fear." The five Masters looked at each other in confusion. "She would have bit and tore the Shadow but she could not move! Until it was too late. The ramparts fell…and her hands were still as they did," and tears did come to her face now, unbidden and unwanted. It was chiss that so wounded her iX, and she was ashamed of it.

"You did the right thing by staying out of harm's way," the Kel Dor told her. "Even a knight would have been at odds to help Master iX if he were in a fight for his life. He would not have wanted you hurt in such a foolish gesture." Master Braga sighed, shaking his head. "But...brought low by a box."

"This is a concern," the togruta said into the silence. "There was something on Farpoint they wanted. The Empire doesn't send their Sith Lord's indiscriminately, and it would have taken a Lord or a Dark Master to best iX."

The cathar had remained silent for much of the exchange, said. "Perhaps we should send someone to investigate. But this is not something to be discussed in the open," and he glanced from the togruta to the chiss.

"I sense much fear in you," he continued, focusing on O'ro'shi "Fear of us? Child I will not accuse of lying," and though they were an affirmation of her speaking the truth the next words sounded like a slap. "I feel, and we assembled can sense, you are not." she lowered her eyes. "But we can also sense you are holding something back. It is not wise to keep secrets from those you would call Master.

When she said nothing, he pressed. "Did iX allow this...behavior?"

How could they take her if they knew it was her hand that had ended the Sith? How could they look at her if they knew it was chiss-her own kind-who had struck the finishing blow to his head. They couldn't. So...she gambled. She would not lie to them, but she could not tell them all of it. A hidden truth might yet let her stay with the order.

The door opened behind her and she did not move. Soft hurried footfalls-not quite running -came to her side and she heard the shift of robes as someone bowed behind her shoulder.

"Council members, forgive the intrusion." She saw a white gloved hand gesture to her. "He's asking for her."

"Can it wait-" the togruta began but, surprisingly, was interrupted by the newcomer.

"I fear not Masters," the voice was rushed, breathless and strained. O'ro'shi looked up in worry. "His time approaches."

"No," she thought silently. She got him to Tython. To the Healers. The Jedi do not fear death. There is no death! There is the Force!

"It's not official yet," Master Braga said, rising with the others, "but," O'ro'shi saw his gesture and she rose as well, "During wartime there are some presidents for this too.

"Young Initiate, see to your Master."

O'ro'shi bowed with as much decorum as she could muster and followed the Jedi Healer from the chambers.

"Hey!" came a hard voice the moment she stepped from the door and a hard metal hand slammed down on her shoulder. O'ro'shi bit back a grunt.

"Yes, corporal?" the Healer said, with as much force but far more gentleness removing the hand from Initiate O'ro'shi's shoulder.

"You, uh," the trooper stepped back, realizing who he was speaking to. "You gonna be okay with her? Need an escort I mean?"

"She is under our care," the voice of the healer was cool, calm, but spoke with authority. "You may return to your duties."

"Yeah," the trooper looked at O'ro'shi. Stared, suspicious; angry. "Just keep an eye on her ma'am." Saying nothing more, the healer motioned O'ro'shi to follow.

There were many people in the halls as the Jedi escorted her to the medbay. Initiates, padawans, jedi, masters. So many eyes turned to her, and what they saw made her cringe. They looked at this enemy profaning their home. Some curious, most cautious. She saw more anger quickly stifled; more suspicion, more distrust. "What is she doing here?" came in whispers as she passed. After the Battle of Farpoint Station her mind felt like a million doors had been flung open and she no idea which one was safe passage, which was the Dark Pit. She felt their fear. Felt their anger. And knew they had a right to both.

They entered the medbay and the Healer guided her to a small, quiet, dimly lit alcove. Mater iX lay on his side, a myriad of machines plugged into the back of his hump, beeping and clicking. A medical droid stood guard over the machines, monitoring their readouts and clucking to itself.

O'rO, the ithorian groaned sleepily, a drug induced drowsiness he seemed determined to fight off. The thUnder. The thUnder-She mUst know...?

"Master," she whispered, and leaned down to fill his field of view, then, glancing to confirm no one else could hear, "I am here. What must I know? Speak your words and I will build a fortress from them."

FOrget me…

Shocked, pained, she slid back. "She cannot make Ice from Salt!"

YOU mUst, he pressed. FOcUs On the me befOre. FOrget me nOw.

"She cannot," she choked back a sob, "Fire; out of place. It spreads and they all run…"

There is nO emOtiOn... and he was silent for a long time. Healers came in to check on them many times. They offered her food but the trays remained uneaten beside her. She remembered being hungry; that didn't matter anymore. iX's breathing slowed and strengthened like a tide, in and out, strong with a new moon and weak after a storm. He did not cough or groan in pain-his was not that kind of sickness. He was simply, slowly, fading away from her.

Other's came. They talked to her, talked to iX, or stood silent vigil beside her. Their words were small. Pebbles.

She tried not to sleep, but when he spoke for the last time, she found that her forearms had become a pillow, and she was bent double, her head resting beside his on the bed. Ferns bend in a gentle wind? Is the smell clean child?

She looked up at him, a sad but groggy smile as she replied, "Yes. We are safe. We are on Tython. You have reached the castle, Knight."

O'rO'shi, he said, and his two mouths smiled. RainbOws Often cOme after the stOrm.

She had never heard of a "Rainbow" before. It was not in her stories, and such things never mentioned in the closed places of Farpoint.

...Seek...them...out…

And with a long wheezing breath, Master iX was gone.

O'ro'shi made a pillow of her arms again, resting her chin on them and looking at the ithorian for another age. The droid, seeing its purpose fulfilled, began extracting the machines from the Jedi Master's lifeless body. When it left, she knew it would signal others to come. To take the body of her Master away. And she would not see iX again.

Ignoring the droid, she crept up onto the bed, like a child sneaking into a parent's room. She wrapped her arms around his snout, bending herself into his still body and whispered to him.

"I love you."

And O'ro'shi slept.


End file.
